


Walk into my Parlour

by Elvias_wolven_assassin



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - World War II, F/F, Multiple narratives, Slow Build, it gets gayer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvias_wolven_assassin/pseuds/Elvias_wolven_assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A World War II AU where Widowmaker is a secret agent working for Germany, and Tracer is the agent sent in to stop her. Will she succeed, or will certain feelings get in the way of the mission?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk into my Parlour

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah okay so i suck at sticking to one thing at a time. This has been nagging me at the back of my head for ages so i finally decided to write it. I have about five chapters worth of content so far so hopefully updates can be regular for this one!

**Chapter 1**

__**“** Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,  
 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;  
  The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,  
   And I've a many curious things to show when you are there.”  
  
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,  
 For who goes up your winding stair  
     -can ne'er come down again.”- Mary Howitt 1829

The bar was heaving, though that was nothing unusual for a Saturday night. It didn’t deter her from her mission. The telegram had come through that morning, and naturally the boy delivering the message had no idea what it meant. She had mere hours to prepare. Maybe they were taking it easy on her this time.

The sun dipped below the row of houses in front of her window, casting her room into amber. She sat on a chair in front of a cracked mirror, humming softly as she reached into a drawer on the left of the vanity table. Lace gloves stroked several empty tubes until they reached the one she desired.

The colour was…brighter than she was used to. Her superiors had been clear; the target was like a magpie; only flashy women were the prize. So tonight she would be a flashy woman, not something she was used to. The shadows were her playground, drawing her flies into her web like a good spider. She left a kiss on the mirror before walking out into the night.

Everything was coated in a thick layer of smoke, from the bar to the homes surrounding the pub. She smiled to the men as she entered, face dropping like a stone at the jeers that followed her inside.

“How would you like some all American sausage ma’am?”

“Just one dance and you’ll never wanna leave me sweetheart.”

Docklands were all the same, shipping thirsty boys in and out daily to wherever the war took them. Today’s shipment was an overnight lot of Americans bound for Austria. There were at least a dozen girls dancing already, being tipped and tossed by the young men. The perfect distraction.

Someone was watching her, the back of her head felt hot under her hat. She kept moving through the sweaty bodies of soldiers and young women until she found a place she could stand comfortably at the bar. The barman motioned to the bottles sitting on a shelf behind him.

“Pick your poison,” he wheezed, coughing into his other hand.

“Nothing for me, merci.”

The barman raised his eyebrow.

“A French lass, now there’s a sight to see!”

_Irritating._

She smiled, false but effective enough to make the barman chuckle to himself and move off to the other end of the bar. A rather loud group of soldiers had just entered, girls giggling innocuously on their arms. Her eyes lit up, target spotted at the back of the group.

Getting back through the crowd proved harder, the bar now full to bursting. She grabbed a half finished glass of something from another patron and locked onto the target. Her heel caught in a hole in the floor, sending her toppling straight into his arms.

“I am so sorry,” she breathed, reaching into her pocket to pluck out a bright red handkerchief.

“Don’ worry about it darlin’” came the reply.

_Does he think he’s a cowboy? Laughable. This should be fun._

He helped her up and took her to the bar, his large shoulders making quick work of the crowd.

“Whiskey, and the same again for, uh?”

“Amelie,” she replied, “and do not worry, I am not much of a drinker.”

He smiled.

“Jesse, Jesse McCree. Now, I wonder if I might have the pleasure of your good company for the rest of the evening. If I’m not being too bold a’course.”

She giggled and his smile wrinkled his cheeks, all the way to his eyes.

“Of course, Mr McCree, I would like nothing more.”

_Like a fly to a carcass._

They chatted over several whiskeys. Her told her of his time in training, the ride over to England and how he had hoped to meet a nice girl before he was shipped off to fight the Nazis. She smiled, she nodded and she touched his arm whenever he said something he thought would woo her.

“D’ya wanna dance?” he offered her a lopsided smile, helped along by the eighth double he’d had in two hours.

“Of course, if you can still stand.”

He hauled himself to his feet and she took his arm. The band was tiring so the songs were slowing. Many pairings had already escaped the dancefloor, shrewd grins and telling touches giving away where the night was going. It was almost time.

Jesse pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her hip.

_I’m glad this will be over soon._

The next song started, slow and sweet. He leaned down until his beard tickled the edges of her jaw.

“What d’ya say we get out of here once this song is over?”

She sighed into his shoulder.

“I would like nothing more, Cherie.”

The song petered out, the band dropping their instruments and rushing to the bar for some much needed alcohol. Jesse grabbed her hand and pulled her close, leaning in for a kiss. She placed her fingers on his lips.

“Not here, my sweet.”

He growled against her fingers but lead them out of the bar and onto the smoky streets. Her shoes clacked against the cobbles as he pulled her down the street and into an alleyway by the river. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Guess I got my wish,” he smirked, leaning in again. This time she did not refuse him as their lips touched. She pulled away first.

“I guess we both did.” She said, pushing him away.

He stumbled at the water’s edge, the police would later say it was the alcohol that got to his nerves. He got too cocky. Americans always were. They wouldn’t try to locate the woman he had been with that night. The only trace of her would be on his lips. A single, deadly red kiss.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, next time we delve into our other heroine's point of view! Feel free to comment and follow me on my tumblr for more updates, the URL is the same :D


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